


undercurrents

by cherrybites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Surfer Lance (Voltron), a lot of dialogue too i guess, allura likes sea shells, beach au, it's mainly klance but there's also a lot of bonding with the rest of the voltron team, lance misses home!, mainly too tired to care, no angst just a lot of fluff, shiro is just, summery vibes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 18:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11629809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybites/pseuds/cherrybites
Summary: In which the Voltron crew spends the day on a tropical planet and Lance takes it upon himself to teach Keith how to surf, Coran's beachwear nearly gives the locals on the seaside a stroke, and Shiro ends up being buried beneath a mound of sand.Not necessarily in that order.





	undercurrents

**Author's Note:**

> 90% of the reason I wrote this was because that season 3 trailer made my angsty little heart shrivel up and die,,,, so i needed something summery and bright to cheer myself up.

How does one forget – for the time being, at least – that they're fighting in a never-ending battle against an intergalactic army of purple aliens and will most likely never have the chance to go back home?

The answer is simple.

You go to the beach.

Lance isn’t going to lie – he’s learned to accept the fact that there’ll never be a place in this entire universe like Varadero beach, because _nothing_ can ever compare to the exact sensation of having sun-bleached sand crystals burning his feet or the blended scent of sea salt and pizza rolls wrapping around him.

He knows whatever tropical planet Coran had painstakingly searched the exact coordinates for the night before won’t compare to his favourite place on earth, yet he’s still the first one to hop out of his lion, shirt already being discarded over his shoulder and the barest hint of a hopeful grin lifting the corners of his mouth. In a matter of seconds, he’s skidding to a halt in his Altean flip-flops.

He’s standing there, under a dome of blue sky, and the only thing he can think is: _the colours are all off._

Under his arm, he’s holding one of the surfboards he managed to dig up in the shop that sold retro-themed earth stuff back at the space mall. It slips a bit from his grasp as he squints against the too-bright sunlight.

There’s sand, but it’s acid-like orange and its texture isn’t anything his feet have ever walked on. There’s water, lapping against the shore in foaming waves, but it’s nowhere near the right colour as the oceans on earth. It’s too bright and artificial-looking. In fact, _everything_ seems blindingly bright, as if he’s somehow stepped into an overly-saturated cartoon.

He can feel his mouth start to twist, but then he hears his friends approaching from behind, and he forces himself to suck in a lungful of the planet’s air before breathing it back out again. _It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t feel the same_ , he reminds himself. He’s here to have all the fun his body is able to capsize before he has to return to the gloom and doom of a war in outer space.

He’ll be damned if he lets some ugly space beach stop him from enjoying the waves.

Spinning his surfboard into a perfectly executed arc over his head, he watches as it lands upright into the sand, then leans against it with all the arrogance of a beach born-and-raised kid, his face turned towards the rest of his companions.

“So who’s ready to ride the waves with yours truly? I promise I won’t wipe anyone out _too_ badly.”

Hunk rubs the edge of his own surfboard almost lovingly. “I’m a little rusty, but don’t get too cocky. You’re not the only one that’s grown up with an older cousin who gave surfing lessons.” He says all of this with a grin, of course, and it’s almost impossible for Lance not to return it, his restless energy coming back to full force.

“I am _not_ going into that,” Pidge declares, her gaze narrowing at the lapping water a few feet away from them. “Who knows what kind creepy shit is crawling down there? Also, the last time I went to the beach with Matt, I had a crab almost pinch off half of my toes.”

Allura frowns, seeming to have no idea what a crab is. She peers at their surroundings under the floppiest sunhat Lance has ever had the opportunity of seeing. Despite his insistence that she’d probably keel over from the sheer enormity of it, she politely refused and proceeded to slide a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses onto her face. On anyone else, the ensemble would look ridiculous, but somehow, she’s able to pull it off flawlessly.

“I think I would rather stay on land for now and collect sea shells,” she says. Her eyes brighten when she accidentally nudges over a jagged shell with her toes, and she bends down to poke at it. “My father used to help me collect them in little jars and place them all over the castle.”

When Lance glances over at Shiro, he sees that the guy has already planted himself onto the sand without even bothering to lay out his towel. “Not anything like I expected to look like,” he says, peering up at them with a shrug, “but I don’t even care right now. I’m getting all the sun I can. Won’t even think about Galra generals or the impending doom of the universe if I can actually help it.”

Fingers drumming on his surfboard, Lance looks down at Shiro with raised brows.  At first, it surprised Lance when Shiro was the first one to agree with him to go on this entire beach expedition, but now that he’s looking down at his face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the tired twitch of his nose, Lance realizes that maybe Shiro needs this mini-vacation more than he does. Seriously – the dude looks about ready to dig a hole into the crusty sand and start hibernating.

 Lance’s gaze unwillingly goes to Keith, who meets it head-on without any hesitation. He’s not sure what to call their relationship these days, if he’s being honest. They’re still rivals – duh – but there’s been a distinct change between them, mainly with all their jabs somehow melting into low-key teasing. They don’t exactly hate each other, but neither of them is willing to put their competitive natures aside.

Lance hooks a foot around his ankle. “Let me guess, Keith. Given the fact that you can probably blind anyone within a fifty-mile radius with your paleness, I’m willing to bet you’ve never been to a beach.”

Keith scoffs. “That’s a pretty big assumption to make.” He pauses. “I’ve been to plenty of beaches. A handful of times.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, fine,” Keith says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve gone once. And I got sunburned everywhere.”

“Don’t forget,” Shiro pipes in, “you also swallowed some seaweed.”

“Shiro, shut up.”

Shiro opens his mouth, presumably to list off any other mortifying beach-experiences from Keith, but then Coran appears in a red speedo and Lance is sure he’s going to need to dunk his face into at least three vats of bleach to get the sight permanently burned from his memory.

“What’s wrong?” Coran asks when he notices the stunned silence around him. “Is it my moustache? Slav said there is only a ten percent chance that you guys will think it matches my beachwear, which I think is completely _ridiculous_.”

Beside him, Lance can hear Hunk stifling a snicker while Pidge – already scrubbing half a bottle of weird Altean sun lotion onto her face – loudly announces that she’s going to set up her shade further down the beach. Allura has pulled down the brim of her hat even lower as she starts to whistle from the corner of her mouth, seeming to be inspecting her seashell with an immense amount of concentration. Shiro looks like he’s pretending to be dead.

Lance clears his throat. “You look great, Coran. Absolutely, uh, splendid.”

The other man beams. “Thank you, Lance. See, this is why you’re my favourite.”

“Hey,” Hunk says as Lance puffs out his chest. “Don’t you remember that really great dish I fixed for you yesterday? You said I was your favourite paladin? Hello?”

Coran nods gravely, his fingers smoothing out the tips of his moustache. “Yes. I suppose you can be my _second_ favourite paladin.”

“Okay,” Lance declares, more than ready to forget he ever saw Allura’s advisor in an unflattering, too-tight speedo. “I’d love to stand here and let the sun turn me into a crispy piece of smokin’ hot meat, but the waves are singing my name. Duty calls.”

 

 * * *

 

A few months ago, if anyone had told Lance that teaching Keith how to surf would be kind of nice, he wouldn’t have laughed at them. He would’ve been too busy choking on his own horror.

But now, lounging on his surfboard next to Hunk – who’s flopped over the side of his own board with the lower half of his body submerged into the water – he’s realizing _just_ how entertaining it is to see Keith completely out of his element.

“Okay, lie flat on the board,” Lance instructs Keith. “Palms on the front. You want to be right in the middle so you don’t lose your balance on the water.”

“Remind me,” Keith says with a little grunt as he gets into position, “why I agreed to this? I don’t trust the ocean.”

“Come on, mullet. After everything we’ve been through? You’re not even going to get a little soaked?”

Keith blows his bangs off his forehead. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, he definitely is,” Hunk says. He unties his orange headband and starts squeezing the water from it onto Lance’s head.

Spluttering out a laugh, Lance nudges Hunk off his board with a power-kick and paddles closer to Keith. “Move your palms a bit closer, and your legs a bit farther.”

“Got it.” Keith squints against the sun’s rays reflecting on the water, then looks up expectantly at Lance. “Am I surfing now?”

“Not quite.” Lance laughs and, without waiting to consider what he’s about to do next, reaches out and tentatively moves the other boy’s hands a little bit. He takes note of the fact that Keith’s hands are a lot warmer than his own. Less softer than he imagined, but more calloused. _Not_ that he spends his time imagining what his rival’s hands feel like, of course. He definitely hasn’t had any fleeting thoughts on that matter ever at all ever.

“Have you ever seen the movie _Point Break_?”

“Uh, I’m not sure? I think it was on cable a lot back at the shack.”

“Well I’m Patrick Swayze and you’re Keanu Reeves.”

Despite looking a bit out of the loop, Keith still raises a brow and nods thoughtfully. “Okay, then. When are we robbing the banks?”

“That’s the spirit!” Lance rubs his hands together gleefully. “Let’s hope this planet doesn’t hold any sharks.”

“Or worse,” Hunk adds in unhelpfully. “Like, maybe mini-weblum creatures that live in the deep? Or critters that spray out acid?”

“Are you serious?” Keith’s eyes dart over the water’s surface apprehensively. “You know what? I think I’ll just sit in the shade with Pidge.”

Lance snorts. “Sit there and do what? Pretend that Coran prancing around with his hairy chest out in the open is a glorious sight to behold?”

“Lance does make a good point,” Hunk says solemnly. “Also, what would Patrick Swayze do if he saw a shark?”

“He would punch that shark on his quiznaking nose,” Lance answers immediately.

A small smirk lifts the corner of Keith’s mouth. “You’re going to punch a shark for me?”

“Hell yeah, I’ll punch a shark for you. I’ll punch, like, six sharks for you or something if you want.” He flexes his bicep, and he can’t help it – he throws in a spontaneous wink as well.

 Keith looks away with a roll of his eyes, but Lance isn’t sure if the small splotch of red on the other boy’s face is a blush or a serious sunburn.

Oh, yeah. He’s going to enjoy this _so_ much.

 

* * *

 

After spending a few brief minutes teaching Keith the basics, they both swim out a little further into the water. Hunk stays near the waterfront to sunbathe, his back splayed against his board and his arm idly thrown over the side of his face.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, mullet.”

“I bet that’s what the space sharks are saying right now,” Keith mutters, but he paddles alongside Lance, still fumbling to catch up.

“Okay, see that small wave over there? That’s going to be your wave.”

“My wave?”

“Yep. It’s going to get bigger, and you’re going to be ready.”

“I’m really starting to hate you right now.”

“Scared?” It’s meant to be teasing, but there’s a bit of a challenge in Lance’s voice.

“ _Definitely_ not scared,” Keith shoots back just as stubbornly. “I’m not backing down from riding that wave.”

Lance points at the advancing wave. “There you go, my dude. Ride that shit. Just before the wave hits, make sure you start paddling. Feel the water pick up the board, then use your arms to pop up. Easy peasy.”

Keith’s brows furrow in determination, his features melting into that trademark battle-face of his.

Lance gives the tail of his board a little shove.

“Go, go, go!”

“Shit! Fuck! Okay!”

Keith starts to paddle furiously, his hands going in and out of the water at an impressive speed.

“Faster!” Lance yells. “Dude, stand up!”

“WHAT?” he yells over the sound of the water. Lance watches as Keith lets out some kind of a victory grunt and proceeds to do… absolutely nothing.

“Stand up!” Lance hollers, waving his arms in the air almost comically.

Lance hears him yell something else but he can’t hear him this time, so he stands atop his own board to see better. Keith, to his surprise, is laughing a little, strands of wet hair flinging across his face as he literally lays on top of his board until the water descends again.

Lance catches the next wave with a hoot of laughter, leaning to the side with his arms splayed out against the drizzle of water and sunlight, riding it all the way in to meet up with Keith.

“You didn’t do shit!”

Keith sprays out a mouthful of water, still grinning despite being entirely drenched. Lance starts grinning too, because, well, shit. Keith looks like a drowned kitten.

“I couldn’t hear you. What were you saying?”

“I told you to stand up, idiot. You didn’t even try!”

“Whatever. I might have overestimated my ability to surf on the first try.” He heaves himself onto his board, balancing his head against his arms. “You rode that wave really well.”

Lance flops belly-first onto his board and starts skimming the surface of the water with his fingertips. “Well, yeah. My family visited the beach almost religiously, and not even knowing how to stand upright on a surfboard is, like, a sin among us.”

“I guess I sinned pretty bad then.”

They both smirk like idiots at each other, and for some reason, there’s a small ache in Lance’s chest when he looks into Keith’s dark eyes – steely and earnest, with the barest hint of mischief in them. There’s always been a carefully guarded look about him, but now, with the sun’s rays glinting off his black hair and drops of water dripping from his lashes, he somehow looks softer.

He catches Lance staring and clears his throat a little. “What?”

“Nothing. Want to try again?”

“I’ll pass.”

“You sure? I could punch the waves into cooperating for you.”

“You? A match against a force of nature? I’d like to see you try.”

Lance wipes away water from his face and sticks his nose into the air indignantly. “Watch me. I’m a _very_ loyal friend.”

Keith doesn’t even hesitate before nodding, but then he shrugs. “Surfing just probably isn’t my thing.”

“That, I can’t argue with. Maybe you should consider a different sport. How ‘bout badminton? Or shuffleboard?”

A spray of water hits his face.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Something edgy and emo. With knives.”

“Knife-throwing?”

“Bingo!”

“It’s plausible.”

They sit in silence after that, bobbing up and down in the water while watching various aliens of all different shapes and sizes mill around the shore. Lance realizes that Hunk has joined Pidge and Allura onto the sand again, and he’s not sure if it’s the trick of the light or not, but it appears as if they’re burying a dozing Shiro under a mound of orange sand. Coran, on the other hand, seems determined to build the largest – albeit lopsided – sandcastle he possibly can, despite it nearly collapsing against him several times.

Lance lifts his head towards the sun and closes his eyes. If he concentrates hard enough, it’s almost like he’s back on earth and out for a regular surfing lesson with one of his older siblings. He can almost taste the sea salt on his tongue and hear the shouts of laughter from his younger nieces and nephews.

Next to him, Keith shifts his position. “Have you always been a good surfer? Or – wait – don’t tell me. You’re a _natural_ , obviously.”

The teasing is back, and the smile on Lance’s face forms almost imperceptibly. “Honestly? It just took a whole lot of determination. Like, when I set my mind on something, I’m not going to let it go. That’s how I got into the Garrison as well.”

Keith nods, lost in thought.

Lance leans back and just gives a small shrug. “It takes a lot of tries before you hit perfection.” He pauses to reconsider this. “Well, except for my parents. They got it on the first try.”

At the mention of ‘ _parents’_ , Keith’s frown reappears, but then he decides to think better of it. In one swift motion, he pulls Lance off his board and straight into the water. For a moment, Lance is too shocked to react, but then he’s laughing so hard that when he comes up, he’s coughing, his eyes and nose stinging with cold water.

“Is that any way to treat your surfing instructor?” he gasps out. “ _Disrespectful!”_

In response, Keith lets out a burst of wild, genuine laughter. “You look like you just got attacked by seaweed.” He swims closer, almost hesitantly, and reaches out to wipe away the wet hair from Lance’s face. His thumb brushes his forehead for the briefest second. “I’d say sorry, but you had it coming.”

“You watch your mouth, Samurai. I’m dunking you.”

This time, Keith’s grin is sharp as a knife. “You might be a good swimmer, but I’ve always been faster.”

And that is how Lance and Keith inevitably end up trying to dunk each other, using their legs to propel splashes of water against one another, their arms grappling over their surfboards in a clumsy wrestle. There’s a lot of cursing involved – the kind that has an alien mother nearby gasping in horror and covering all four of her child’s ears with her entire body.

 At one point, with legs kicking and shoving each other, they end up underwater and bop their noses by accident.

Keith blows his cheeks out like a pufferfish as strands of his hair float up in spiky tendrils. For a moment, Lance forgets that he can’t breathe underwater, which ends up with him swallowing more liquid in-between chokes of laughter.

They come up for air at the same time, Lance discreetly trying to knock out all the water from his ears and Keith furiously shaking his head like a wet dog to get rid of all the excess water from his hair. When he’s done, his teeth are chattering a bit, but his bangs have been flung back from his forehead and there’s a smug look on his face.

 _Okay, fine_. So maybe Lance takes a mental snapshot of Keith’s face at this exact moment and carefully files it away at the back of his mind. But that’s not necessarily important.

 They eventually call a truce and paddle back to the shore before they actually _do_ end up drowning each other. Allura, Pidge, and Hunk join them in the shallow water to soak their feet.

“This is so relaxing,” Allura says, sighing softly. She wiggles her toes in the water, then reaches behind her to show everyone the pile of seashells she’s collected. “They don’t look like any of the shells we had on Altea, but the colours are really pretty.”

Lance picks one up and holds it out into the light. “Hey, this one kind of looks like a cheeseburger.”

“I would _kill_ for a cheeseburger right now,” Pidge says with a groan. She rubs her eyes beneath her round spectacles and digs her legs deeper into the squishy, wet sand. A long sigh escapes past her lips.

“And pizza,” Hunk grumbles. “There’s only so much space goo a guy can take.”

Keith nods. “I don’t even care what’s on it – I’ll eat it with just about any topping.”

Lance pretends to give an offended gasp. “Don’t tell me you’re a pineapples-on-pizza enthusiast.”

“It’s actually really flavorful,” he says defensively.

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “I can’t believe you, Keith. I thought you were an intellectual.”

“Hey,” Hunk says. “Pineapples are the _shit_.”

“You earthlings are so strange,” Allura says with an amused frown. “This pizza stuff – whatever it is – sounds positively disgusting.”

Lance turns around and covers his ears. “No, guys, stop. I can’t handle this much disappointment. Especially from you, Keith.”

“My brother’s even worse,” Pidge says. “One time, I literally saw him eating a slice with peas on it.”

Keith lets out a snort. “No wonder Shiro kept calling him Mr. Peas for a whole month.”

Hunk shudders. “That’s _sacrilegious,_ Pidge, I’m not even kidding.”

Their pizza debate comes to an abrupt halt when Coran joins them, his shoulders raised high and his entire body scorched red from the heat.

“I built it!” he crows proudly. “I’ve finally built a proper sandcastle!”

They all turn around, and to Lance’s shock, the castle – still lopsided, but surprisingly stable – towers smack in the middle of the beach in all its blindingly-orange glory.

That is, of course, until some unsuspecting alien child decides to run right into it at that exact moment, collapsing the entire structure completely.

 

* * *

 

As the sun sets, Lance starts to see the barest hint of two moons appearing between the planet’s strange cluster of clouds. He stretches his arms above his head and arches his back, trying his best not to let the rapidly descending temperature get to him as everyone else decides to head back to their lions and the castle ship.

He stands near the shore for a little while, staring at the tide, but instantly becomes alert when he hears Keith’s footsteps halt behind him. He knows its him because no one else would actually stomp the way he does, even in flip-flops.

There’s a pause, and then he’s standing right next to Lance, shoulder brushing against his for a brief second before he shifts away again.

“Uh, nice pair of moons, huh?”

Lance cocks a brow. “Did you just walk back here to get all sentimental about these moons with me?”

“ _No_.” Keith crosses his arms and kicks at the sand. “Just – you know. I wanted to thank you.”

Lance turns to him, surprised. He’s never seen Keith actively seek him out for a simple thanks before. “What for?”

“The surfing lesson,” Keith replies. He gestures vaguely at the ocean. “I don’t think I’ve had this kind of fun in a while.”

“Really? You had fun?”

Another kick at the sand. “Yeah. Didn’t learn much from the surfing, but…” His face softens a little bit. “You made me forget that we’re in the middle of a gigantic war.”

Despite his best efforts, Lance can’t keep the pleased grin off his face. He wills his cheeks not to redden, though he’s pretty sure Keith can see it. He wants to shove his hands down his pockets, but then he remembers that he’s wearing swim trunks, so he’s left awkwardly dangling his hands by his sides, suddenly not knowing what the hell to do with them.

Keith turns back to him, looking like he’s on the verge of saying something else, but then decides against it and tilts his chin towards the direction the others had gone in. “We should head back.”

“Yeah.” Lance is nodding, but he’s not quite sure why he’s suddenly feeling disappointed. Was he expecting something else? Something spontaneous from Keith’s end?

The walk to the clearing where all their lions are takes under ten minutes, and when they reach it, the others are waiting for the both of them.

Hunk raises a knowing brow at Lance, but he pretends not to notice and focuses on his toes instead, thinking about how this might be the last time he’ll ever get the chance to go to the beach again.

They’re all about to get inside their respective means of transport, but then Keith pauses, looking around. “Guys, wait a second.”

Allura swivels around. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Where’s Shiro?”

There’s a small pause.

Pidge smacks her forehead. “Holy shit, we left him buried under that mound of sand!”

“Wait, wait,” Lance says, starting to cackle. “You’re telling me that he’s still sleeping? He must be having some pretty sweet dreams.”

Keith shakes his head, clearly amused. “I can’t believe we _forgot_ him. He’s probably still snoring.”

“Oh man,” Hunk says, peering out towards the beach. “I hope he’s actually just sleeping and not dead from a heatstroke.”

“Not possible,” Pidge says, shaking her head. “He’s got –“

Whatever she’s about to say gets interrupted with unintelligible grumbling in the distance. They all look over to the beach again to find a slouching Shiro making his way towards them. He’s shaking sand away from his tank top and scratching the bridge of his nose sleepily, but otherwise, looks unharmed by the sun.

When he comes into full-view, Lance realizes that he’s literally got sand on him everywhere – mainly his hair. Every movement from him brings crusty grains of sand spilling out from his head, including his ears. Even the little crevices in his prosthetic arm seem to have several grains stuck inside them.

“So,” he says mid-way through a yawn, “Did I miss out on anything?”

 

 


End file.
